


Died as He Lived

by Molly_Hats



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics)
Genre: FIx It, Gen, Why Cass isn’t in Bruce’s death scene in that annual, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Hats/pseuds/Molly_Hats
Summary: “He died as he lived.”“Believing he knew best.”“And manipulating everyone into going along with it.”





	Died as He Lived

3 Years Ago

“Cassandra,” Bruce says, and there’s such tenderness in his voice, even as his gravelly voice scrapes over the syllables. He stands up slowly, leaning on the cane, and Cassandra rushes over to support him. He takes a few steps and she lets go.

“The doctor says it’s cancer,” he says. He looks back at her and half-smiles wryly. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Not that it was cancer,” Cassandra says.

“I’m dying,” he says. “Didn’t say it out loud before.”

“Not dead yet,” Cassandra points out, placing a hand on his shoulder. She’s still much shorter than him, so it’s a bit of a stretch.

“I don’t want you to be here when I die,” Bruce says bluntly, without preamble. 

“Bruce--”

He turns to her, her hand falling from his shoulder, and takes her face in his hands like he did when she was a child, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Cassandra. I saw my parents die, and I’m...I’m a broken man. Your abilities make death worse. .”

“No…”

“Listen to me,” he orders, and Cassandra can read the grief, the resolve in the tension of his frame. “I don’t want you to see me as I die. I don’t want the last thing I do to be hurting you.”

“It’s my choice,” Cassandra says stubbornly, looking up into his eyes. She gently pushes one of his hands away, sliding her hand between his and her cheek. 

His eyes soften for a moment, before his resolve returns. His remaining hand shifted to stroke her hair. “And I’m telling you to go. To stay away. It won’t help me to be there, Cassandra. It will hurt both of us.”

“It’s my job to see. I can’t...bury my head in the sand. Hide.” 

“Cassandra, please.” He’s pleading now, no longer trying to order her by relying on his authority in youth, but appealing to her, an old, dying man who’s at least 50% scar tissue begging for a last wish.

She squeezes his hand. “I won’t leave you, Bruce.”

Now  
Hong Kong

Cassandra squeezes the cell phone tightly, listening to Stephanie’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Cassandra...He’s gone. He died this morning.”

“Alone?” The anger is barely hidden.

“No. Selina was there, and most of the kids.” 

“He knew. When he sent me here,” she tells Stephanie, a note of accusation in her voice.

“Yeah.” She didn’t bother to try to deny it. “He died as he lived.”

“Believing he knew best,” Cassandra says.

“And manipulating everyone into going along with it.”

“I’m coming back to Gotham.”

“Good. We need you, Cass. We...we missed you.”


End file.
